Absolutely Nothing
by That Buggy Girl
Summary: Gift drabbles for Black Dragon Queen, set in her "Cover Me" world. Bluestreak is chatty and nervous. Motorhead knows just what he wants. Too bad things keep preventing him from getting it!
1. Bad Timing

**Notes:** This is a little something I wrote for Black Dragon Queen, author of the fabulously cracktastic epic "Cover Me." I've been following that story for a while and when she started hinting that she was going to pair Bluestreak with Motorhead, something about it made me infinitely pleased, even though I really had no idea who Motorhead was. The way she's writing it is just so gosh darn cute! 8D

So anyway, this is for her and every one should go read "Cover Me" so we can all keep the crack alive!

**-**

"So, um…how about the weather?"

A shrug. "It's hot."

"See any good movies lately?"

"We've spent most of the time since we got here drivin'."

"Right…" A pause and an awkward fidget followed this, "Well, we have a lotta movies, so maybe some time we can watch one. And, um, by 'we' I mean a whole bunch of us, not just me and you unless you want it to be just me and you because I would totally be okay with that but I didn't want you to take it the wrong way and-"

"Why do I make you so nervous?"

Bluestreak started at the question, glancing over at his companion uncertainly. He was used to being cut off when he went off on a tangent; it was nothing new. Every one did it, since he talked so much. No, it was the rather direct question that surprised him and he squirmed a little, ducking his head as he answered. "Well…you're a 'Con."

"It has nothin' to do with that, though, does it?" Motorhead huffed a little, folding his arms, "'Cause you're not like this around the others. And I thought we were done with all this 'I'm an Autobot and you're a Decepticon' stuff."

"It's…complicated." Bluestreak cycled air through his vents, the gesture akin to a weary sigh. It wasn't that complicated, really. It did all boil down to the faction difference, but…the gunner didn't want to admit that and hurt the other mech's feelings.

"You're the one making it complicated." Motorhead took a step forward, closing the distance between them and invading Bluestreak's personal space. The Autobot took a step back, starting when his back hit the wall. Motorhead grinned, edging closer and planting a hand against the wall on either side of the nervous mech's head.

"Wha-what're you doing?" Bluestreak didn't move, just stared at him in half-frightened confusion. Part of him wanted to run off screaming; he was certain that this was it; the 'Con was going to slag him because he'd just been playing games all along. The other part of him thrilled at the close proximity; the danger; it was intoxicating.

"Don't worry." Another cocky grin and Motorhead brought his face closer to Bluestreak's, staring into those bright, innocent optics. "I ain't going to hurt you. 'M just gonna-"

"Bluestreak? Hey Blue, where are you?" A muffled voice, accompanied by the muted sound of footsteps, echoed down the hall. "Red wants you to help with…"

"Slag!" Motorhead didn't bother to wait and find out what Red Alert wanted or even who was coming. He just sprang back, guilty, and shuffled away from Bluestreak as quick as he could. It didn't matter to him that his companion was an Autobot. He didn't care about factions, but he knew that some of the Autobots were acutely aware of the difference and didn't want to take a chance on being caught molesting one of them in the hall.

Blaster found Bluestreak alone in the corridor, slumped against the wall and a bit dazed looking. He cocked his head curiously, peering at the younger mech. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing." Bluestreak mumbled when he'd recovered enough to find his voice, a hint of disappointment lacing his tone, "Absolutely nothing."


	2. The Conditions Were Perfect

**Notes:** Yeah, I'm back with more. I kind of hate the ending of this, but I was having trouble with it XP So whatever! The important parts are all there and okay. I kind of want to make a series out of this, featuring every one of Motorhead's attempts to get close foiled by something, so if you have any ideas of things you'd like to see, lemme know and I'll see what I can do. (I make NO promises, though. I'm lazy about requests.)

-

_This_ time, nothing was going to get in the way.

The conditions were perfect.

It was too early in the day for any one to intervene. Every one else would have been either sleeping or recharging, depending on their race. The sun was only _just_ peeking over the horizon and there was no sign of any one else, anywhere.

Given the early hour, Motorhead wasn't quite sure why he himself was awake, but he was and he had been bored and therefore found himself lounging around in the common area, waiting for something interesting to happen. After tossing and turning and trying to settle back into recharge, he'd given up, figuring something interesting was bound to happen sooner than later; this place was far from boring.

What he hadn't expected -though it was _too_ perfect- was Bluestreak creeping through, headed outside.

The Autobot seemed to be distracted, or perhaps lost deep in thought. He did glance around nervously every now and then, as if afraid he was being followed. Motorhead waited until he'd vanished out the door, then rose, following at a safe distance and curious to see what he was up to.

The gunner's destination wasn't far. And what a bleak image he presented to the world: Hunched up on the ground at the edge of the moat, knees drawn up to his chest plate, Bluestreak was the picture of depression. His shoulders were slumped, doorwings drooping, and he was tossing pebbles aimlessly into the moat.

It wasn't right, Motorhead decided. He liked it better -_way_ better- when Bluestreak was cheerful and perky and chatty. "Are you okay?" He asked, surprisingly quiet and solemn, plopping down on the ground beside the Autobot and swinging his legs over the ledge.

Bluestreak started, looking up at him in surprise. He hadn't even noticed he was being followed and _of course_ it had to be Motorhead who followed him! "I…Um…No." He sagged even more, "Sometimes, I don't recharge so well." Slag, he didn't want to get into this! Especially not with a 'Con and especially not with Motorhead! But he just couldn't help it; the words needed to come out. "I have these nightmares about what happened, before. And they're just so _real_, ya know? Then I start to think and remember and all this stuff I wanna forget starts crossing my mind and I get upset and I can't recharge and I'd rather not be in my room or alone but usually every one else is still rechargin' and…and…"

"It's okay." Motorhead stopped him before he could start rambling completely, "You can talk about it, if you want. I'll listen," He paused, "If you want me to."

The offer to listen earned him a shy, grateful look. Then Bluestreak started talking and talking and _talking._ Half of what he said had nothing to do with anything. The other half, Motorhead couldn't even follow; it was too rambling and disjointed and he suspected those were the important bits, but maybe the gunner didn't _want_ him to understand. But he nodded and listened and tried not to fidget too much and when Bluestreak finally came to an end and cycled air through his vents, the sun was high in the sky.

But the Autobot gave him a smile and a thank you and Motorhead grinned, leaning in a little. This was it; the conditions were right and the moment was right and there was still no sign of an interruption. Bluestreak looked particularly vulnerable, but this wasn't to take advantage; it was to _help._ And there were still no signs of life other than the various cacti dotting the landscape, but what could they do to interrupt? No, nothing would happen. _This_ time he was going to kiss Bluestreak and it was going to be perfect and --

And the perfect moment was utterly ruined by a huge SPLASH, the snip-snapping of jaws and Bluestreak's surprised yelp as he scooted back away from the slagging overgrown lizard that had just lunged at them.

Another chance ruined! And who knew how long it would be before they were alone together again, given the randomness of these crazy Autobots and the even crazier humans. It seemed as if Bluestreak always had some one with him -as if he was _purposely_ avoiding him- and moments like these were few and far in between.

Motorhead huffed, tossed a hateful look in the crocodile's direction and folded his arms, cursing the fact that they weren't allowed to shoot the fragging thing.


	3. Acid Rain

**Note:** A couple of you mentioned Gremlins. I'm sure you'll easily be able to see where I'm going with this…

Never underestimate the stupidity of the young ^_~

-

There had been nothing particularly unusual about the day; nothing to suggest that anything out of the ordinary would happen.

Of course, those are the kinds of days where things are the most likely to happen, a fact that most people tend to forget.

It had started out as a peaceful day; the kind of peaceful that often translates to "boring." Most of the mechs still stationed at the base were lounging around, waiting for something to happen. The humans were busy with whatever it was that humans did in their spare time. And the Gremlins…Bluestreak wasn't quite sure if it was better or worse to not know what they were up to.

As it was, he himself was playing a game on Barricade's makeshift PSP. It had been left behind when the Antarctic-bound group had left and the younger mechs still at base had been sharing it amongst themselves, using it in those rare instances when nothing that demanded their presence or attention was going on.

Bluestreak was hardly an avid gamer; he much preferred to talk than stare at a screen. But he had been incredibly bored and at least it was something to do.

The digitized sound of things blowing up apparently had some kind of siren-like effect on Motorhead; Bluestreak found himself with an audience almost as soon as he started the game. The Decepticon -much to his chagrin- hovered around his shoulder, peering at the screen and giving him advice about how to play the game, how to beat the bosses and what all the secret cheat codes were.

It was annoying, to say the least! Bluestreak was already bad enough at the game, but having some one talking his audios off about what he should be doing was just plain distracting. Plus, it was _Motorhead_, which only irritated him more. He didn't mind doing badly, really (it was just a video game, after all), but dying a million gory, pixilated deaths in front of some one you liked was embarrassing!

"Do you just want the fragging thing?" The Autobot finally snapped, turning to face Motorhead and holding out the handheld. "I mean, you're pretty much playing the game for me already since you keep telling me what to do and it's really, really distracting and it's just making me do worse! Or, if you really want to spend time with me, we could do something meant for two people so you can stop invading my personal space and driving me nuts." He folded his arms, the PSP still dangling loosely between two fingers.

Motorhead had the grace to look apologetic, but before he could open his mouth to respond, something small, metal and cylindrical sailed through the air over their heads, exploding on contact as it hit the wall.

Bluestreak yelped in surprise as something green and toxic-looking rained down from the explosion, scrabbling to escape getting drenched. Motorhead reacted more quickly, leaping into action and knocking the Autobot out of the way as several more of the mysterious cylinders whizzed overhead.

"Oh Primus…We're going to die!" Bluestreak shrieked, already nearing hysterics as he tried to brush some of the green droplets off his arm, "It's the rest of the Decepticons and they're firing acid bombs at us. It's already melting my paint; I'm all sticky! Primus," He whimpered, "I don't wanna die!"

"We're not going to…" Motorhead had grabbed Bluestreak by the arm while he spoke, intending to reassure his damp companion that they were _fine_. He trailed off, however, when he realized there was a different feel to the other's finish. Slag. Maybe they really were under attack and maybe the whatever-it-was raining down on them really was acid and maybe they really were going to offline right here, right outside the safety of the base!

Quickly, he dragged the other mech closer and pushed him up against the least wet part of the wall. "If we're gonna die…" He edged closer, close enough to feel Bluestreak wince as another small explosion sounded from up above and another deluge of green spattered over the two of them, intending to finish what he started the day he'd cornered Bluestreak in the hall, "I don't wanna die with any regrets."

Bluestreak froze, all of the words building in his processor and waiting to get out dying before reaching his mouth. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, shaking his head a little as another spatter of drops rained down on them, optics widening as Motorhead leaned in, resting their foreheads together. "I don't wanna die without kissing you first…" The Decepticon continued.

The gunner's only response was a small squeak; this time, it seemed as if it was really going to happen and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. His spark was fluttering erratically, though whether from fear or excitement was up for debate.

"Oh, slag! Motorhead, I'm sorry! We were testing Dispensor's missile launching capabilities and didn't mean to…" Red Alert, approaching at a quick jog with a small group of assorted other mechs trailing behind him, could only see the Decepticon, hunched and facing the wall. He trailed off as the 'Con in question shifted, turning to level a glare at him over his shoulder. When he moved, Bluestreak was suddenly visible, peeping out from behind him with a look of embarrassed disappointment on his face.

A grin tugged the security chief's faceplates upwards and he tried not to laugh. "Primus, I'm really sorry! I'm sure there's nothing like a shower of Mountain Dew to ruin a moment…"

Motorhead grit his teeth, trying to keep the nasty words he wanted to spit out in check. The other mechs watched as Bluestreak disappeared behind him again, completely flustered now. Red Alert still looked like he was trying not to laugh, Blaster appeared pretty uncomfortable himself and Inferno looked appalled. Dispensor and Neurotoxic chattered among themselves, the vending machine tossing a can of Mountain Dew from hand to hand all the while.

There was no point in being angry; it would accomplish nothing. Just like that, Motorhead could feel himself deflating. He slumped over Bluestreak a little, still protective - he didn't like the way Inferno was looking at either of them, like he wanted to yell at Blue and rip him to shreds for daring to touch Blue- and sighed. "Mountain Dew…It was just Mountain Dew." Bluestreak looked up at him, shuffling a little and peering around him at the gathered crowd. He squeaked a bit, shrinking back further, and Motorhead placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I kinda wish it had been corrosive acid," The 'Con muttered to himself, "That would be a lot less painful than this."


End file.
